Here's the official 'Ted Lasso' biscuit recipe

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TODAY 10 September, 2021 - 10:43am 16 views

Who plays Jamie tartt dad?

After a devastating rout by Manchester City in the FA Cup semifinal, the Richmond team was licking their wounds in the locker room when they got an unwelcome visitor: Jamie Tartt's father, James (Kieran O'Brien), a foul-mouthed Man City fan who came to berate his son on the loss, while still asking for his credentials ... Entertainment Tonight'Ted Lasso' Episode 8 Recap: Phil Dunster on Jamie and Roy's Emotional Breakthrough (Exclusive)

Fans of the hit Apple TV show "Ted Lasso" are making the series' iconic biscuits in their own kitchens, and the result is a buttery delight.

In the show, Ted Lasso, a small-time college football coach from the Midwest hired to coach a pro soccer team in England despite knowing nothing about soccer, tries to win over the team's owner, Rebecca Welton, by making his famous biscuit recipe.

Resharing this because Ted is back and these are so easy and delicious! ##tedlasso ##recipe ##fyp

What are biscuits in the U.K. are actually cookies in the U.S., and Ted's shortbread cookies become a recurring theme in the series, which recently became the most Emmy-nominated freshman series ever with more than 20 nominations.

Jason Sudeikis, who plays Ted Lasso in the series, recently appeared on TODAY with Hoda & Jenna alongside fellow stars Brendan Hunt, Jeremy Swift, Hannah Waddingham and Brett Goldstein to talk about season two of the show.

Hannah Waddington, who plays team owner Rebecca in the show, admitted she wasn't always a fan.

"I will be kind and say they are significantly better this season," she said.

But the TikTok community seems to disagree with Waddington's dislike of the biscuits.

My wife wanted me to make the ##TedLasso ##biscuits, so I did.

"My wife wanted me to make her the 'Ted Lasso' biscuits, so I did," shares one user, who simply says, "Mmm," after tasting them.

"Bonus points if you put them in a pink box and enjoy," says another, who packages up their biscuits in the same way Sudeikis' character does on the show.

Recipe by @ana_calderone 👏❤️ who else cries every week watching ##tedlasso? 🙋🏻‍♀️ ##baking ##biscuits tiktokfoodie ##ChewyChattyPets

Though Ted does not give away the secrets to his famous biscuits in the show, Apple TV shared the official recipe with TODAY Food, so I tried making them myself.

The recipe was simple: The only ingredients are flour, butter, powdered sugar and salt. Everything was easy to mix and, after spreading the batter into a square pan and refrigerating it for 30 minutes, I pre-sliced each bar according to the recipe instructions and put the pan into a 300 F oven.

Using my 8-by-8-inch pan, the bars took a little longer than the suggested bake time of 45 to 60 minutes to cook completely through, as the batter was a bit thicker than it would have been had I used a larger pan.

After about 75 minutes, the biscuits were ready. Eating them warm from the oven was absolute heaven, with flavors of butter and sugar melting together in perfect shortbread cookie form. They were light and airy and melted in my mouth, just like a proper biscuit should.

Want to try your own Ted Lasso biscuits at home? Here's Apple TV's official recipe:

Read full article at TODAY

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'Ted Lasso' Recap, Season 2, Episode 8: Father Figures

NPR 10 September, 2021 - 08:31am

Rebecca finally meets her mystery correspondent, and nervous laughter ensues. Dr. Sharon gets a concussion, and she reaches out to Ted. The jerk store called and they're all out of Jamie Tartt's father, but fortunately, Jamie's got plenty of good dads in his corner.

Dr. Sharon starts her day on a call with her own therapist, Bridget, who tells her that her frustration with Ted might have something to do with the fact that she deflects just like he does: He uses humor, and she uses her intelligence. She might have to be more open herself, says Bridget, in order to make progress with him. Sharon isn't fully convinced, but she heads off to the office on her bike (the folding one we admired in a previous episode). She's enjoying the ride, until she gets hit by a car.

Later, after a very difficult loss to Manchester City and an even more difficult scene involving Jamie's father, Ted feels another panic attack coming on. He calls Dr. Sharon and tells her something: His father died by suicide when Ted was 16. It's a beginning and not an ending, but at least he's begun.

Roy's story this week starts out as pure comedy: He's called in to Phoebe's school, because she's been swearing. After talking to her teacher, he begins to worry that as Phoebe's surrogate father, as much as he adores her, he's been a bad influence on her, and he makes her promise that she'll stop swearing, even as he admits he can't quit himself.

Elsewhere, Jamie is reluctantly getting game tickets for his father and his two buddies, who will be rooting for Man City in their game against Richmond. (So yes, Jamie's father forces his son to get him tickets so he can root against him.) When the game against Man City is a slaughter with Richmond on the losing side, Jamie's gleeful dad makes his way down to the locker room to taunt and harass Jamie and his stung teammates. Having endured all he can, and after giving his father a number of chances to retreat peacefully, Jamie punches him in the face. Coach Beard efficiently removes Jamie's dad. As everyone stands around in the awkward silence, wondering what to do, an introspective Roy, fresh off spending a lot of time thinking about how he influences others, goes over and hugs Jamie.

We learned last week that Sam is Rebecca's secret Bantr correspondent, and that he was waiting on pins and needles to hear from her after suggesting that they meet. This week, he decides to just suggest a place and time, and she agrees. Sam cashes in his once-per-season haircut from team captain Isaac, but when he arrives at the designated spot, he and Rebecca realize that they have been talking online to each other.

His initial reaction is amusement and delight; hers is horror, both because she's his boss and because he's 21 (!). But he persuades her to at least hang around and have dinner, and a montage illustrates that they have a tremendous amount of fun together and are well suited to each other, in spite of the obvious impediments. At her door, they share a quick kiss, but she then demurs and says that it's just not a good idea, and they part. Buuuuuuut later, after the Man City loss and an interview she sees in which Sam talks about the importance of at least trying your hardest, she reaches out via text, and he sends her his address. But when she opens the door to go see him, he's at her door. Why did he send her his address? she wonders. "For next time," he says. Smooching ensues as he comes inside.

Sometimes I think in the broader conversation about prestige dramas and peak television, and about streaming and multiplying platforms and binge-watching, we don't talk enough about how serialization has affected comedy.

When I was growing up, television comedies were mostly episodic, meaning aside from the broadest arcs (romances like Sam and Diane or Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky falling in love, for instance), each 23-ish-minute segment was self-contained. This made sense in a world in which the ultimate payoff for comedy was syndication, where people might happen upon any episode from anywhere in the run on any given day. It also made sense in a world where summer reruns were shown as a matter of course, but not every episode in order.

This is part of what led to the rebellion against sentimentality in comedy: whatever was to have emotional impact or take on a serious subject, it would go from introduction to conclusion in under a half-hour. That's what "very special episodes" are. That's part of why "no hugging, no learning" was Seinfeld's rule.

The genuine comedy-drama that unapologetically mixes genuine dramatic elements with silliness, a show like Barry or The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel or Fleabag or GLOW or Insecure, while it isn't entirely new, has found a home in the present streaming landscape that didn't necessarily exist 20 years ago except in rare cases. And that brings us to this week's episode of Ted Lasso.

I have mixed feelings about some of these stories.

I love Rebecca and I love Sam, and I want them to make out because they seem to enjoy it so much. But Rebecca really shouldn't sleep with a player on her team; especially one who is this young. That really is an inappropriate power differential for a romantic relationship. If the genders were reversed and this were a man Rebecca's age who was going to date a college-aged woman whose career was in his hands, the peril in it would be obvious.

On the other hand! Serialization has meant that over a stretch of a good many episodes, they've been able to lay a foundation for this to be the rare case of a relationship that is a bad idea structurally, but an understandable impulse personally. Sam is obviously a very mature 21, they have a lot in common, they're both hot, and they spent quite a while conversing over text and building their fondness for each other without that power differential in play. They've had opportunities to build some trust in each other, particularly during his protest over the sponsor, which we now know might have helped nudge this one oil company out of Nigeria for now (a satisfying short-term outcome is not an uncommon outcome of high-profile protests). And the show focuses the montage (set to Rex Orange County's pleasantly chill "Loving Is Easy") on how happy they are and how much fun they're having — it looks like a great conversation.

But his career is in her hands. This is a thing we ask people with power not to do. It's hard to root for.

I think the single biggest question coming out of this episode for a lot of people is going to be: Do you buy that hug? Do you buy the fact that Roy Kent, established originally as the gruffest man alive, would walk across the locker room and embrace Jamie Tartt? The question isn't really whether Roy could be supportive of Jamie; Roy's growth has certainly justified that. The question is maybe more like ... is that how Roy would choose to be supportive? And do you want that from this show? After all, they are literally hugging and learning.

Again, I think because it's serialized, that scene works better than it ever could have in an episodic show. Jamie's stuff with his father goes back to last season, when we learned that his father was (at the very least) verbally abusive and probably always had been. And as hard as it was for Jamie to come back to Richmond after tanking his relationship with his father's team out of spite, the hardest nut for him to crack has been Roy. He wanted Roy's help, and he wanted Roy's approval.

As for Roy, he spent a good chunk of this episode specifically thinking about his role as a surrogate parent. What parts of himself does he want to pass on? What is his obligation to Phoebe to be himself but also give her what she needs? If you tilt your head to the side, Roy doesn't want to pass along his demeanor to the guys he coaches just like he doesn't want to pass along his swearing to Phoebe. It doesn't come naturally to him not to swear, or not to shout "Oi!" instead of giving a guy a hug. But he's trying to be the best possible version of himself when he's responsible for other people. So this isn't just Roy having grown as a person generally; this is Roy reevaluating his approach to mentoring and parenting specifically, especially when he deals with people whose own fathers come up short. And given that backdrop, I do buy that hug.

I love Sarah Niles' work as Dr. Sharon this season so much. I consider her one of the best second-season additions to any show, ever. I think Sharon rebalanced Ted Lasso by providing a counterweight to Ted, and Niles provided a counterweight to Sudeikis and his comedic energy — which can be subdued, but which on this show tends to be ... zany.

One of the things I think has been so great about Sharon is that she functions like a therapist: She refuses Ted's efforts to charm her, to befriend her — she's there to work. But inevitably, there's a personal relationship between these people too (Ted is her colleague as well as her patient, which seems ... complicated?), and I'm apprehensive about the show sort of sentimentalizing the blurring of those lines. A therapeutic relationship has boundaries, and therapy isn't friendship, and so forth.

At the same time, what Sharon tells Ted is very limited and not overly personal, not much more than the acknowledgement that she, too, has feelings. But the bottles in Sharon's apartment seem to suggest possible future directions that make me nervous about the execution of the story. If it turns out Dr. Sharon needs more help, it shouldn't be from her patients.

The irony of the influence of serialization on a show like Ted Lasso is that I also think of this show as being very good at using the structure of each episode to draw dotted thematic lines. It's not obvious at the outset that Sharon's bike accident and Jamie's awful father and Phoebe's swearing have to all be in the same episode, but it snaps into place at the end: Jamie's father, Ted's father, Roy as Phoebe's father. The writing staff is good at drawing long arcs, but they're also good at structuring individual episodes so that they hang together and don't feel like they're just A-plot/B-plot/C-runner kinds of setups.

Furthermore, formally speaking, to shape an episode so that it has everything that should be in it and nothing else, you sometimes need a bit of flexibility on the running time, which was practically never available on networks and very limited on cable. This episode is 45 minutes long, about half again as long as most episodes of Ted. A lot of extra-long episodes are just muddled and not edited enough, but some episodes use that flexibility sparingly to let stories unspool as they should, and I think Ted produces the latter more often than the former.

"I want you to close your eyes. Look around."

Winnie the Pooh, Grey's Anatomy, Coolio, Ronnie Fouch, Stephen Sondheim, Kyrie Irving, Sling Blade

Ruth Bradley as Ms. Bowen (Phoebe's teacher) gets a great funny scene this week, in which she has to explain to Roy that Phoebe is swearing. That little coda about the glitter is wonderful.

Given how hateful Jamie's father is, it would be easy to overlook Kieran O'Brien playing him, but to get somebody that purely hateful right isn't as easy as it looks.

Ted Lasso’s Sarah Niles on Why Sharon Is More Than Just an Anti-Ted

Vulture 10 September, 2021 - 08:00am

AFC Richmond’s self-described genius-savant sports psychologist initially comes across as something of an antidote to Ted’s endearing, if increasingly annoying, penchant for positivity. That’s not to say she consciously saps the energy out of the room, but she does carry herself with a measured professionalism. As anyone who’s worked in an office knows, operating by the book can quickly be misconstrued for callousness. “One of my fears was that she would come across as cold,” Niles says, speaking from her home in London.

It’s not all on her, though: Ted, the typically fuzzy mustachioed bear, is surprisingly hostile to Sharon’s profession. Their relationship, nevertheless, warms across the season, and episode eight marks a huge stride not only for their dynamic, but for Sharon’s own journey. “The characters I play are all about truth and love,” Niles adds. “She’s comfortable, and she’s confident in what she’s doing. And being in this space as a woman, you know, amongst all these men — being a British Black woman, an older woman, I was like, I’m gonna bring it all.” Vulture spoke with Niles about Sharon’s journey so far, why it was important to give her moments of vulnerability, and her personal happy place. (Hint: It’s not on a bike.)

Ted Lasso’s Sarah Niles on Why Sharon Is More Than Just an Anti-Ted

The Mary Sue 10 September, 2021 - 08:00am

AFC Richmond’s self-described genius-savant sports psychologist initially comes across as something of an antidote to Ted’s endearing, if increasingly annoying, penchant for positivity. That’s not to say she consciously saps the energy out of the room, but she does carry herself with a measured professionalism. As anyone who’s worked in an office knows, operating by the book can quickly be misconstrued for callousness. “One of my fears was that she would come across as cold,” Niles says, speaking from her home in London.

It’s not all on her, though: Ted, the typically fuzzy mustachioed bear, is surprisingly hostile to Sharon’s profession. Their relationship, nevertheless, warms across the season, and episode eight marks a huge stride not only for their dynamic, but for Sharon’s own journey. “The characters I play are all about truth and love,” Niles adds. “She’s comfortable, and she’s confident in what she’s doing. And being in this space as a woman, you know, amongst all these men — being a British Black woman, an older woman, I was like, I’m gonna bring it all.” Vulture spoke with Niles about Sharon’s journey so far, why it was important to give her moments of vulnerability, and her personal happy place. (Hint: It’s not on a bike.)

Ted Lasso’s deep, dark secret

Vulture 10 September, 2021 - 08:00am

It’s an idea plenty of other critics and fans have raised. Ted — the mustachioed underdog soccer coach for the soul played by Jason Sudeikis — seems like a progressive, modern man who is emotionally mature and pulled together. A few think pieces about the show have even argued that Ted himself functions as a sort of ersatz therapist for a world filled with conflict and torment. How could he possibly not like therapy?

Yet as season two has unspooled, Ted Lasso has made a compelling argument for Ted not as a would-be therapist who gives his players a shoulder to cry on, but as someone who lets others unload their emotions to him because he is incapable of doing so. Ted isn’t emotionally mature; he’s emotionally stunted in a way that keeps anybody from ever looking too closely at him.

That development comes to a head in the series’ latest episode, “Man City.” A devastating loss on the soccer pitch for Ted’s team AFC Richmond, followed by the sight of a player’s abusive father “joking” with his son in a nasty way after the game, prompts Ted to finally call Sharon (Sarah Niles), the team’s therapist. Ted admits his darkest secret into the phone: When he was 16, his father died by suicide, leaving Ted and his mother alone.

His father’s death is something Ted won’t quite look at, and his refusal to so much as think about what happened to him has made him the folksy charmer he is, at the expense of his own mental health. He’s started having panic attacks, and every so often, he’ll have an angry outburst. (One that occurred around the midpoint of Ted Lasso’s first season, when Ted yelled at a player, was the first sign we had that Ted’s whole deal was obscuring something darker.) In the face of a soccer season that’s shaping up to be a difficult one for Richmond, Ted is seriously struggling.

What I love about this story arc is the way Ted Lasso has taken something we know to be true about Ted — he’s very emotionally available to everyone — and flipped our assumptions on their ear. He’s not emotionally available to everyone because he’s done the hard work of healing old wounds; he’s emotionally available to everyone because he doesn’t believe his own needs are as important. Lots of people who suffered horrible things in their childhood and adolescence have developed exactly the same coping mechanism. You don’t look at the thing. You can’t look at the thing. So you help other people instead. That works until it doesn’t.

It’s almost unbearably trite to say, “This is a worthwhile conversation to be having about mental health right now,” but ... this is a worthwhile conversation to be having about mental health right now. Ted’s reticence to go to therapy is the same reticence many people share, the same reticence that I felt until well into my adulthood. By making therapy a place where Ted finally has to look at himself and make an effort to heal, Ted Lasso is telling an engaging, emotional story. However, the series is also giving a lot of viewers occasion to look at themselves, if only a little bit, and wonder if there might be some old wounds worth treating.

Rising soccer star Sam Obisanya (Toheeb Jimoh), for instance, has a great relationship with his dad, and the two are able to speak frankly when Sam does something that upsets his father, resolving their dispute in a way that keeps both men in each other’s good graces. On the opposite end of the spectrum, disgraced soccer enfant terrible Jamie Tartt (Phil Dunster) has a father who has berated him and treated him awfully his entire life.

Beyond those two polar opposite examples, Ted Lasso has also woven a large tapestry of father-son stories, with almost every single storyline offering at least a hint of such a relationship. Even the arc that seems the most disconnected from the father-son tales — the career journey of retired star Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein) — features a charming runner where Roy serves as a father figure to his young niece. (Close enough, I think.)

Another main strand of season two’s story is the way that Ted’s never-ending charm offensive sometimes buries actual conflicts that need to be addressed. Ted’s clear preference of Roy (who joined the team as a coach in episode five) over wunderkind Nate (Nick Mohammed) has made the latter lash out at underlings, often cruelly. That’s just one example among several, with Richmond’s abysmal record standing in as the foremost symbol that for all Ted’s methods serve to put a Band-Aid on everybody’s problems, those problems sometimes require far more significant attention.

In one early episode, Ted has brought on Sharon as the team’s therapist, but he doesn’t expect her to turn any of her focus toward him. After all, he doesn’t need therapy, right? Yet when she comes to observe a practice, Ted keeps looking back to realize she’s moved slightly closer to the field (and, thus, to him) in the stands. The sequence is played as a gag — and it’s a funny one — but it also serves as a microcosm for the season as a whole. Every time Ted thinks he’s outrun his problems, he’s reminded they’ll catch up with him eventually.

(I want to note here as an aside that Sharon is played by a Black actress, and there’s a long, unfortunate history of movies and TV shows using Black characters as sounding boards for white characters’ problems. Sharon is a nuanced character, and Niles plays her brilliantly. Still, it’s not like Ted Lasso is subverting this trope in any way, at least not to date.)

Even season two’s much-maligned Christmas episode ends up weaving its way into this dynamic. Its portrayal of Higgins (Jeremy Swift), Richmond’s director of football operations, as the ultimate good dad to both his own kids and many of the players on the team stands as a kind of example of what Ted Lasso views as effective fatherhood. Similarly, the episode plays with Ted’s inability to engage with his own sadness over not getting to be with his son on Christmas. Those two characters’ circumstances might not be enough to get the episode’s many haters on board with what it aims to do, but they do place the episode in a slightly new context.

Notably, even as season two has presented “What’s up with Ted?” and “Dads can be bad, right?” almost as hints pointing to a big moment, the actual reveal is not especially shocking. Nothing out of the ordinary happened to Ted when he was a teenager. A lot of people lose beloved family members to suicide. How rarely do we let ourselves talk about these things, though? Losing his dad when he was 16 has stuck with Ted his entire life, but he also refuses to confront his emotions about the loss because they are painful and inconvenient. Instead, he tamps down his feelings. Or at least that’s what he did. Now, he’s unable to any longer, and everything threatens to spill out.

It’s always better for characters to learn stuff in the course of a story, at least if you want whatever those lessons might be to stick with an audience. When people talk about Ted Lasso season two, this storyline will surely come up.

Simultaneously, the second bit of cunning is that Ted Lasso is ever so carefully edging up to questioning one of the core, sacred tenets of American sitcoms: Family trumps everything.

Ted’s breakdown is spurred by Jamie’s father accosting him in the locker room. Jamie’s dad only had access to that locker room because Jamie got him tickets to the match and listed him as a VIP guest. He only conferred that VIP status at the not-so-subtle urging of Higgins, who said that Jamie’s dad was a VIP just because he was Jamie’s dad. Higgins has a great relationship with his own kids — and he assumes the same is true for others. He’s not directly telling Jamie, “You have to be nice to your dad,” but he is saying that Jamie’s dad is a Very Important Person, even if he’s someone who made Jamie’s life hell.

Think about all of the sitcoms you’ve seen where family members are beastly to each other, only for them to realize in the end that they’re family and that means something. American comedies drum this message into our brains over and over and over again, and in most cases, the slights that characters are meant to forgive are ultimately minor. (A husband forgetting his anniversary, for example, is something that can be overcome.) But far too many shows, especially family sitcoms, suggest that you should forgive anything — including toxic or abusive behavior — if a family member is involved.

How many episodes of how many sitcoms have revolved around family members treating each other horribly or telling pointless lies or otherwise sowing discord? Certainly, those storylines can be incredibly funny if handled well. (I am a big fan of Everybody Loves Raymond, and that show centered on a family whose members were often awful to each other.) But the American sitcom almost always wants to place a button at the end of a story like that, one that says you have to keep your family together, no matter what. And for a lot of people, both in this world and in fictional ones, the primacy of family only leads to hurt and anguish, with so many people waiting and waiting for their families to love them as they are, not as their families wish they would be.

I am not going to suggest family isn’t important. Ted Lasso revels in healthy families that support and love each other. However, the show is refreshingly smart about the ways in which families can be callous and cruel to each other, and it doesn’t make excuses for that behavior. What’s more, the show turns the soccer team at its center into a found family, of sorts. When Jamie’s dad treats him horribly, Roy’s the one who gives Jamie a hug that lets Jamie express his emotions over what just happened.

It’s not too difficult to connect Jamie’s experience with his father to what happened to Ted. One day he had a dad, and then one day he didn’t. Whatever code of manhood Ted was raised under said you just didn’t talk about that kind of loss, no matter how much it tore you up inside. Prioritizing family trumps everything, even when reckoning with pain caused by that family would be healing and necessary. A code of silence rarely helps anyone, though — not even Ted Lasso.

The idea that a found family can offer you the love and support you need is an old concept in queer spaces, but it’s a fairly recent one in mainstream entertainment. I don’t yet know if championing found families is what Ted Lasso is up to, but I won’t be surprised if it is. I would love if there was a warm and friendly sitcom about found families that acknowledges our families of origin sometimes let us down badly. Maybe it could be this one.

For a show that is sometimes written off (including by me!) as conflict-free fluff, Ted Lasso has proven surprisingly thoughtful and emotionally intelligent. Ted’s dad jokes used to just be a weirdo character trait; I’m honestly surprised that they’ve turned out to be a deflection away from something so raw. I didn’t know this show had that sort of reveal in it. I’m excited to find out what else it is capable of.

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